


let it out

by constantblur



Series: 2018 Writing Challenges [7]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Gen, Keithtober, broganes, prompt: racing with shiro
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-10
Updated: 2018-10-10
Packaged: 2019-07-29 06:11:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 450
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16258301
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/constantblur/pseuds/constantblur
Summary: Everything blurs together at this speed. It’s like flying through a still-wet watercolor painting, all the details unformed and bleeding together. There’s just color streaking by: endless dusty red stretches out in every direction, specks of green and grey flash in his peripherals, and above him is just blue, blue, blue.Shiro indulges Keith with some cathartic desert racing.





	let it out

**Author's Note:**

> for the keithtober day nine prompt: racing with shiro. i will eventually post a fic on the day i'm supposed to post it on.

Everything blurs together at this speed. It’s like flying through a still-wet watercolor painting, all the details unformed and bleeding together. There’s just color streaking by: endless dusty red stretches out in every direction, specks of green and grey flash in his peripherals, and above him is just blue, blue, blue.

Keith hunches lower in his seat and urges the hoverbike on faster.

There was a plan at some point, a route he was supposed to follow, but the desert is so wide and open and it called for Keith to get lost in it. There is no end or beginning, no path to stay on. There’s just: _fly, and keep flying, forever_.

Until the edge of a cliff suddenly looms dead ahead.

Keith pulls back and yanks on the brakes, curving the hoverbike around to kill its momentum and hopefully—hopefully—keep them from swan diving over the ledge. Dust kicks up in a storm cloud around the hoverbike so Keith can barely see, can only strain against physics and listen to the voice in his head that sounds suspiciously like Shiro when he’d lectured Keith about paying more attention to his surroundings to avoid exactly this type of situation.

The hoverbike stops. There’s barely two feet between it and the edge of the cliff.

Keith lets out a relieved sigh and slumps in his seat.

“That could’ve been bad,” he mutters.

“Idiot,” comes the should-have-been-expected chastisement. “That _was_ bad. You’re unreasonably lucky it wasn’t worse.”

“Lucky,” Keith scoffs, straightening up and turning to face the other hoverbike setting down beside his. “That was pure skill, Shiro.”

“An unreliable skill you wouldn’t have to use in desperation if you were a bit more vigilant,” Shiro says reprovingly.

“Yeah, yeah,” Keith mutters, flexing his hands around the hoverbike’s controls.

Shiro sighs, and Keith feels vaguely guilty for making him sound like that. “Keith,” Shiro starts, and then stops, brow furrowing deeply as he clearly struggles to figure out how to say something. Keith already has a good idea of what it is. His foot itches to kick the hoverbike back in gear so they don’t have to have this conversation again.

But Shiro surprises him.

“Something’s been welling up at the back of your throat for too long and I don’t know if it’s good or bad,” Shiro says, “but you’re gonna have to let it out.”

Keith shifts his gaze from Shiro’s. He can’t do this right now. He just wants what the desert is offering him. _Don’t think. Be free_.

Keith revs the engine. “That’s what I’m doing,” he says, and glides back out over the endless dusty red that beckons him to solace, to release, to freedom.

**Author's Note:**

> [twitter](https://twitter.com/constantblur_)


End file.
